


falling into routine

by justlikeswitchblades



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe, KNB x NBA, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-14 05:47:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17502761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justlikeswitchblades/pseuds/justlikeswitchblades
Summary: “Taiga!” A voice calls out from further inside the firehouse. “Stop flirting with passerby when you’re on shift!”“I’m on my lunch break!” The firefighter--Taiga--fires back, grinning. He bites his lip, his smile a little more subdued when he looks back to Tatsuya--but he doesn't deny he’s flirting. Damn.[au where taiga is a FDNY firefighter and tatsuya plays for the knicks]





	falling into routine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stephanericher](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stephanericher/gifts).



> i mostly wanted to write the hookup scene at the end but it wouldn't be as fun if i didn't build up to it lol (also hey, this is the longest oneshot ive ever written!)

Tatsuya inhales. The early February air is crisp and a semi-shock to his lungs, but it’s less of an icy dagger to his insides than last week’s single digits had been. The temperature has hovered just above 30 degrees for the past two days; he better go for a jog before the weather decides it wants to be brutally winter again.

But he’s not about to catch a cold at this time in the season--he’s got insulated leggings and shorts over those, hoodie, gloves, and a beanie, which he adjusts over his Airpods. He jogs east down the row of brownstones towards Broadway, splashing through puddles of melted snow that half of his neighbors didn’t bother shoveling, and heads north, past the corner bodega and the shuttered, graffitied boutique. He gets stopped a block further east, waiting for a fire truck to pull out of the firehouse garage. The truck screams west, and Tatsuya, adjusting his volume after fighting the siren’s blare, continues toward Highbridge Park.

***

There’s a stretch of home games that lasts for almost two whole weeks at the end of March. More time for Tatsuya to both savor and forget the unique comfort of sleeping in his own bed, of getting to cook in his own kitchen, even more so when he has three days off before his next game. It’s that weird transition period between winter and spring outside, cold enough to make him want to stay inside, but warm enough to know he’ll find himself at a street court, shooting mindlessly like he blacked out sober. He pulls a pair of running shoes out of his closet, throws a hoodie on, and heads down to the lobby.

***

Mid-April has Tatsuya feeling like someone’s replaced his blood with espresso. The Knicks seeded into the playoffs early on, but he’s impatient to play _now_ , to take on the opponents that the press thinks they can’t beat, to crush the underdogs so badly that it makes him feel a little guilty after. He has to go to practice, but the gym is going to be too full of anxiety and excitement; he’ll force himself to tolerate it for weights later, but he heads outside on his usual route, Yankees cap and sunglasses on, lifting his hand in a wave when a disembodied voice from the firehouse makes its way past his headphones to wish him luck.

***

Tatsuya should just to go to the gym come May. He’s gotten used to the mental grind of the playoffs; he needs the team gym to keep up with the pace of it. The closer they get to the conference finals, the more people try to stop on the street--Aomine is a friend enough to send him the name of the security firm he uses, unsolicited. Tatsuya forwards it to his agent. _Just a few blocks_ , he tells himself, and then he’ll resign himself to doing laps around the Garden.

He slows to a stop outside of the firehouse, propping his foot up on an ankle-high gate around a rectangle of grass to re-tie a shoelace. A firefighter sitting in a folding chair outside the garage calls at him. Tatsuya focuses harder on his shoelace; he catches the firefighter waving out of the corner of his eye. He sighs, and pulls an earbud out.

“Yeah?”

The firefighter--Asian guy with a chiseled jaw in a navy pullover and gray shorts, calfs like he’s got bricks taped to his legs--swallows a bite of half-sandwich that’s dwarfed in his hand. 

“How’s the jog going?”

“Fine,” Tatsuya issues the single word answer through his teeth,

“Didn’t mean to catch you off-guard,” The firefighter smiles. “It seems like you’ve ran past every other day since March, so I figure I’d say hi when I had the chance.”

“Thanks,” Tatsuya forces something like a smile. “I’m guessing you want a picture or an autograph, right?” The firefighter blinks, still smiling, though he tilts his head slightly, like a confused dog. It’s the face of unrecognition, and Tatsuya curses inwardly for presuming the extent of his fame.

“Taiga!” A voice calls out from further inside the firehouse. “Stop flirting with passerby when you’re on shift!”

“I’m on my lunch break!” The firefighter--Taiga--fires back, grinning. He bites his lip, his smile a little more subdued when he looks back to Tatsuya--but he never denies he’s flirting. Damn. Maybe if it weren’t broad daylight; maybe if Tatsuya wasn’t in the middle of a playoff series. He’s attractive enough to make Tatsuya wonder why he didn’t notice him before.

“Sorry,” Taiga clears his throat. “Didn’t mean to hold you up.”

Tatsuya nods, popping his earbud back in. “Maybe I’ll catch you next time, Taiga.”

“Sure,” Taiga steps back, letting Tatsuya pass by. Tatsuya fights off a smile for real as he loops back around on the other side of the street, watching the gears turn in Taiga’s head, searching for the name he wasn’t supplied.

“It’s Tatsuya!” He shouts across the street.

***

Getting kicked out of the Conference Finals in five games is depressing as shit. Not that winning the fifth would have guaranteed them winning the sixth, or the seventh--not like Tatsuya’s in the state of mind to imagine they could. He keeps replaying his missed shots and subpar blocks in his head; he needs an escape, but with Alex’s new WNBA coaching gig, he doesn’t even have a good reason to spend the summer in L.A.. Maybe he can start smaller; he’s ordered in groceries and delivery for close to a week now. Go outside and try to run the self-depreciation out of his mind into the pavement, get coffee and a bagel before the asphalt heats up and the trash starts to stink in the sun.

Traffic on Broadway still flows, the trickle of late night cars starting to morph into early morning rush hour, but the car horns are less obnoxious at this hour, sparse notes as opposed to the incessant bleating that comes with gridlock.

The side streets are even quieter; Tatsuya thumbs his volume down; the thought of music leaking from his earbuds feels obtrusive. He turns it back up when he’s closer to Highbridge, the roads a little more congested, the park’s pathways starting to populate with other joggers, cyclists, women briskly pushing strollers, but still too early for the kids on summer break to be seen. He jogs to the bridge and over the water, down to the stadium and back up again--it kills an hour, and the sun is making itself known now, searing at least a mild burn onto Tatsuya’s bare arms, sweat plastering his hair to his forehead and cheek.

“Tatsuya!”

He looks over his shoulder; he’s back at the firehouse already. The one he talked to a few weeks ago-- _Tai--Taiga?_ \--is standing half in the shadow of the garage, hand raised. Tatsuya slows to a walk, backpedaling to meet him. He takes a minute to catch his breath, and scans him. The guy’s in a t-shirt and shorts, biceps looking like they might burst through his sleeves in the same way a watermelon does when someone’s put too many rubber bands around its middle. 

“Sup.”

“How you doing?”

“Not bad,” Tatsuya shrugs. “Just trying to get my run before it’s too hot. You?”

“Getting more emergency calls now that it’s almost summer, but--”

“Hey, Tai,” A firefighter jogs up to Taiga, placing a hand on his shoulder. He turns her way. “I was reading the report you wrote on that 125th Street fire yesterday…” 

Tatsuya checks his phone. He fires a thumbs-up emoji at Alex’s request for a papaya dog when she’s in town playing the Liberty next week, and glances back, fighting the urge to cross his arms and act impatient. It’s not like he has anywhere to be. Taiga is jogging into the depths of the garage, shouting some like an apology, and the firefighter’s _who-the-hell-are-you_ look towards Tatsuya turns into a double-take, her mouth going slack. Ah. Tatsuya braces himself with a thin smile.

“Taiga.” She looks back over her shoulder, jerking her head towards Tatsuya. “You know this guy?”

Taiga looks up from where he’s sat down, flipping through pages on a clipboard. “I mean, he’s jogged by here a couple of times…”

The firefighter looks back at Tatsuya, sheepish. “I don’t mean to impose, but if I could get a selfie, that would be--”

“I can do autographs,” Tatsuya offers, then pauses..”As long as you don’t give me shit about the playoffs.”

The woman snorts. “I mean, it sucks, but I’m not that kind of fan. Plus, I won my Fantasy league pot thanks to having you on my team. Here, come inside for a sec while I grab a piece of paper.” 

She beckons him in, and Tatsuya obliges, stepping into the shade of the garage. It and the nearest box fan whirring are welcome. He looks around at the gleaming fire engines, American flag and “Never Forget” on opposing walls, more office-y parts and a gym setup further back. Taiga looks at him, brow lowered.

“Hey, Laur!” He calls out after the other firefighter. “Am I supposed to know this guy?”

“If you cared about sports, you would,” The woman chides, hustling back with a lined notebook and a pen. Tatsuya takes it and flips to an open page; Taiga’s whine about watching college football seems to go unheard.

“Who should I make it out to?”

“Oh, Lauren.”

“To Lauren,” He repeats, writing it out and signing his name--capital T and capital H smushed together and followed by lowercase _imuro_ , drawing little lines in the o so it looks like a basketball. He hands the notebook back. Taiga is looking back and forth between them, still waiting for an explanation.

“I play basketball, uh, in the NBA,” Tatsuya clenches his jaw, thankful he’s wearing sunglasses. He loves what he does, even if it’s made him miserable for the past few days. He loves that his passion is his life; he wouldn’t trade it for anything else--but it feels awkward to explain to someone whose job involves saving people’s lives.

“Oh.” Taiga raises his eyebrows.. “That’s pretty cool.”

“Yeah.” Tatsuya rocks on his feet. “I should finish up the rest of my run, but uh, thanks for inviting me in.”

“Of course!” Lauren responds, Taiga nodding politely alongside her. “Stop by anytime.”

***

Tatsuya thinks about changing his jogging route over the next few days. He tries heading down to Central Park, but he’s tired by the time he reaches the park; he figures dealing with a fan or two in his neighborhood is more tolerable than the midtown traffic he’d face if he tried to go to the team gym. Besides, he’s had worse interactions before.

He heads out a little later in the morning--it’s bright, it’s hot, it makes him want to be in air conditioning--but at least sleeping in felt nice. He passes by the firehouse on the opposite side of the street and sees that one firefighter, Taiga, sitting in a red pickup truck, window down.

“Hey,” Tatsuya stops, flipping his sunglasses up. “Just getting in for the day?”

“About to head out, actually,” Taiga smiles. “Worked the overnight shift.” Tatsuya notes the hint of darkness along his jaw. He raises an eyebrow, humming a neutral reaction.

“Listen,” Taiga rests his forearm on the inside door, learning out a little. “You don’t have to jog by here if you don’t want to. I didn’t realize who you were, and I stopped you--it’s my fault you ended up in an uncomfortable situation.” Tatsuya shrugs and exhales.

“If I don’t get recognized here, I’ll get noticed somewhere else. I’m not like, Lebron or Kobe,” Tatsuya pauses, continues when he sees the glimmer of knowing in Taiga’s eyes. “But it happens sometimes. Your coworker was pretty chill about it, it’s no big deal.”

Taiga nods. “Supervisor, technically. Just don’t want you to feel like you’re obligated to stop by.”

Tatsuya starts to opens his mouth, but thinks twice; this conversation already has enough of his ego in it by way of dropping other names. He nods back. “Thanks, man.”

“For what it’s worth, I would have invited you to come by more often myself,” continues Taiga. “Would’ve been a bad look on shift though.” There’s a smile at his lips, a hint of tooth showing. Tatsuya narrows his eyes just so, regarding him with a look that’s cool, but not cold.

“Lucky your supervisor likes basketball then, huh?”

***

Tatsuya doesn’t expect it to become routine. He learns that firefighters work a few day shifts, then a few night shifts, days off not always falling on the weekend. It feels similar to what his schedule ends up looking like during the season; he ends up drawn to it. When one of the garage doors is open, he’ll more often than not find himself standing in the firehouse, cooling down before walking the rest of the way home.

“No, I don’t think they’ll end up trading Nicky,” Tatsuya shakes his head at the question and the water bottle offered to him, though the latter is still pushed into his hand. “His points are lower than when they were in college, but he’s still growing, adjusting. Happened to me after I was drafted too. Half a season in the D League and he’ll figure it out.”

“I hope so,” Jon, another one of the firefighters, tells him. There's a note of resigned pessimism in his voice; his Long Island accent is thick. “I’d like to see a kid from the area stick around.”

“Yeah?” Tatsuya cracks a grin. “That's nice. Folks in L.A. don't seem to want me around.”

“That's ‘cause anyone with eyes can tell you're a New Yorker now!” Jon slaps him on the shoulder with a laugh. He walks back into the depths of the firehouse, and Taiga emerges, wiping sweat from his face with a towel, his t-shirt sleeves pushed up to his shoulders. He smiles when he sees Tatsuya; Tatsuya nods. 

“Just finish a workout?”

“Yeah,” Taiga exhales, still breathing heavy. “You?”

“Jon waved me down to talk, but I don't mind the break. It's a scorcher out there.”

“Yeah, you gotta be careful.” They've had some iteration of this conversation at least once before; Tatsuya supposes he should mind, but it's not like he's on a dinner date searching for intellectual stimulation. Maybe the heat’s getting to both of them; if it isn't, he's too distracted by Taiga’s pecs and biceps to care.

“Mm-hm,” Tatsuya smiles, voice a touch distant. He makes eye contact. “Good to know where I can get help if I need it.”

Taiga nods along with him, slowly, smiling but searching him. The fire engine horn blares. Neither of them jump--Tatsuya is used to cars honking on the street, air horns blaring during games; this is Taiga's job. But Tatsuya looks up, and Taiga turns to look. 

“KT Tape, your turn to help with maintenance!” The firefighter inside grins.

“Goddamn, again?” Taiga sighs. “I just did it Monday. Get a probie to help.”

“I will, I just wanted to interrupt you.”

“Fuckin--” Taiga sprints across the garage, easily jumping the eight, maybe nine feet up the truck door to shove a hand in the firefighter’s face, who laughs and attempts to dodge. Tatsuya fights to lower his eyebrows, and fails.

“Jesus,” he whistles. “How tall is that truck?”

Taiga looks back at him, grinning. “Uh, I think they're all ten feet.”

“You sure you don't play basketball?”

“I've been roped into a pickup game or two by these guys. Why?”

“Can you jump that truck one more time?”

“Sure,” Taiga shrugs and backpedals, then sprints up to the truck again and jumps. His palm smacks the top of it, the tips of his fingers stretching further. Tatsuya swears, turning away, then back. 

“Okay, you don't play basketball. Are you sure you don't want to try?”

Taiga snorts. “Like I'd be any good.”

“Might be,” Tatsuya shakes his head. “That vertical is something else.”

“Yeah?” Taiga jerks his head towards the truck. “You jump it then.”

“Can't you just take the compliment?”

Taiga cocks his eyebrows. “Sure, basketball star. If me doing it makes you think _I_ should play, then you should be able to do it by default, right?”

Tatsuya pushes out his cheek with his tongue; none of the other firefighters are standing close enough to follow their conversation, let alone the few that actually know anything about his style of play. The league’s standard rim height _is_ ten feet, but he doesn’t dunk. Thinks obsessively about it, practices box jumps on end till he can barely stand, tries it out when he stays late or gets to the practice gym early, but _doesn’t dunk_. Not when people can see him if he fails.

But that’s too much to summarize cleanly, too much to reveal to a man he doesn’t know anything about besides his first name and his career choice and the sandwiches he has for lunch. And this isn’t a dunk. It’s just a sprint, and a jump.

Tatsuya takes a few steps back. Then, he runs up to the fire engine, launching himself into the air when he’s a foot away. His hand claps against metal, fingertips reaching the top, but not finding any purchase to grasp on. He drops back down, swearing at the mild impact that reverberates upwards into his ankle from the ground first--these running shoes aren’t built for that kind of jump--and shaking his hand out second. The rim has less surface area; it hurts less to throw a hand at.

“You beat me. Happy?”

Taiga whistles low. “Didn’t think you’d do it.”

Tatsuya bends over, picking up the sunglasses that fell from their space behind his ears to the floor. He rubs them on his shirt, and slides them back on. 

“Can’t say no to a little competition.”

***

Tatsuya hasn't been in a relationship in a while. Hasn't dated in a while, hasn't even flirted in a while. His social circle consists of professional basketball players and people moving radially around him--trainers, coaching staff, et cetera. If another player pings his gaydar, he's closeted--fuck, _he's_ practically closeted himself, or at least he hasn’t confirmed or denied any rumors that the media has confronted him with. He can only try flirting with so many guys in the league, though that too starts with basketball--he'll compliment someone's form before he notices how attractive they are. It's hard to navigate--schedules and time differences make things dissipate before they dive deep, stamping relationships with an expiration date before they begin.

But he keeps thinking about Taiga. His biceps, his thighs, his ass, _how appropriate would it be if I flirted with a firefighter in his workplace?_ Taiga. _What are the chances he'd show up if I started a grease fire in my apartment?_ Taiga. Slowing down when he jogs past the fire station just to see if he's out by the front Taiga. Fucking _why didn't the universe introduce this motherfucker to basketball?_ capital T _Taiga_. He's only met the guy a few times, has spent an hour with him cumulatively, tops but has devoted more than one empty night thinking about him. 

“Like what you see?”

Tatsuya had decided to go for a jog around six that morning, failing to beat the sun but trying to put in an honest effort to beat the heat. He jogged past the firehouse, music turned down low--Taiga called his name. They hadn't seen each other in at least a week, and stopped to catch up. Taiga, just finishing up the night shift, talked about some fires and emergencies he had been called to take care of; Tatsuya, pre-coffee, mostly smiled and nodded along. They said goodbye, but he turned around a few steps later to remind Taiga of an rap artist whose name he’d forgotten. Now, he's standing there, having caught Taiga biting his lip, eyes lowered, almost certainly staring at his ass.

“What?” Taiga laughs it off. He looks skeptically at Tatsuya as if to deny it, but Tatsuya isn't sold, raising his eyebrows before continuing in the opposite direction.

***

August morphs into September, and September into the pre-season, and then the regular season in October. Tatsuya, as much as he loves New York, finds comfort in the routine, early hours and late nights, meeting up with old friends after games, decaf and beer putting him to bed the same. Feels even better when they come away with a win.

He's used to the leather of airplane seats, of the front seat of his car driving down to the Garden, podcasts and radio shows and pre-game playlists circulating through his speakers; it's strange to have a day off at home when he finally has one. He makes breakfast, he goes to the gym, he wastes most of the day playing 2K and some multiplayer that the kids fresh out of college roped him into during training camp a few weeks ago. He should prep one of the subscription service meals in the fridge before he has to go out of town, but it'd taste better with a pint of ice cream from the bodega down the block--

Tatsuya waits for the stoplight to change with his hands in his pockets, plastic bag straps looped around his wrist. The firehouse’s in the opposite direction from his apartment, but he crosses Broadway--it's a nice night out. Taiga is, backlit by the streetlights, whistling and tossing his keys from one hand to another when Tatsuya approaches. His head jerks with a nod.

“Yo. Long time no see.”

“Yeah,” Tatsuya nods back. “Basketball season’s started up, so, lots of games, lots of travelling, going for a jog when I’m already getting a workout in at practice would burn me out, so--”

“So that’s why you’ve been gone.”

Tatsuya shrugs. “It is what it is. But I figured I’d come say hi.”

“Well, if your schedule is so hectic--let me give you a ride home? Just finished up my shift.”

Tatsuya inclines his head just so; he lives half a mile away at best.

“Sure. Red truck, right?”

“Yeah. I’m parked at Broadway and 163rd, by the Duane Reade.”

“I could walk with you now.”

Taiga lowers his brow. “Don’t you want to catch up with everyone?”

Tatsuya smiles. “Or you could just tell them I say hi tomorrow.”

Taiga grins. “Don’t want your dinner to melt, huh?”

“I think it’s a valid reason.”

“No shade!”

Tatsuya shakes his head. “I’ll go say hi. Meet you there in a few.”

Taiga is leaning against the front door of the truck when Tatsuya gets back, scrolling through his phone. He looks up and shoves it into his pocket. “All good?”

Tatsuya nods. “Yeah, sorry for the wait. They put me through a lot more shit than you did. Wanted to talk about basketball.”

“Figures.”

Taiga unlocks the truck, and they both climb in. Tatsuya slips the bag off his wrist, setting the pint on the floor. Taiga rests a hand on the wheel, pausing for a second, keys not yet in the ignition.

“So, a few weeks ago, you definitely caught me staring at your ass, and I know you didn’t believe me when I said I wasn’t, but you weren’t that weird about it, so I went home and Googled “ _is tatsuya himuro gay?_ ”, and there were a bunch of different reddit threads, some more legit than others, and I don’t want to presume, but--” He looks at Tatsuya. “I want to be clear that when I offer to give you a ride home, it’s because I want to take you back to my place.”

Tatsuya crosses his arms, leaning back in his seat. He looks at Taiga, then at the license plate of the SUV in front of them, nods. “Okay.”

Taiga exhales. “Okay.”

He starts up the truck and eases out of the narrow spot, taking the next left and then another to loop back towards Broadway. He slips an arm around Tatsuya at the light, fingers curling around his shoulder. Tatsuya looks at him out of the corner of his eye. 

“You were just waiting to proposition me then, huh?”

Taiga shrugs, taking a right onto Broadway; his hand twists with the gesture, knuckles rolling against Tatsuya’s shoulder before settling back into place. “It was either going to be at 6:00 A.M. or P.M. Figured I’d go for P.M.”

“You could’ve done it that one time, after I caught you staring--I wore leggings the next time I came by for a reason. I wore them twice, actually, since you were on call the first time.”

“Yeah, I figured--” Taiga sighs, pulling his hand back to push through his hair. “Kinda weird to do it so close to work, you know?”

“But when you’re heading to your car, it’s different.”

Taiga gives him a look.

“I’m kidding, I get it,” Tatsuya smiles. “It’s not easy when work is your social circle.”

They fall into quiet, but not quite silence, the purr of the truck filling the space between them, punctuated by the odd rush hour car horn. Tatsuya eyes the aux cord curled up in the empty cupholder; he pulls it out and untangles it, feeling Taiga’s gaze on him.

“Too quiet?”

“Sometimes you need it after a long day at work,” Tatsuya hums, plugging his phone and pulling up Spotify to track down an R&B playlist. He finds one and presses play, then settles back into his seat. His eyes flick across to Taiga; Taiga meets his gaze, then pointedly looks him up and down. Tatsuya spreads his thighs a little more. 

“Is mood music your kind of thing?”

Taiga swallows, his voice thick. “It could be.”

Tatsuya raises his eyebrow, teasing enough to toss a wink Taiga’s way; Taiga’s voice hitches slightly with a curse. Tatsuya looks at the crotch of his shorts. He sets his elbow on the arm rest, resting his cheek against his knuckles. He looks out the window, catching the street sign out the corner of this eye; they’re already at 130th.

“How far south are you?”

“117th.” 

“Wow,” Tatsuya raises his eyebrows again, impressed. 

“It’s not so bad. You have to commute to MSG, right?”

“Got me there.”

A few more minutes pass and Taiga pulls up to a condo complex, driving up the parking garage ramp next door. He goes up one, two, three floors before pulling in to a numbered spot. He turns the key; the engine and the music cut off. Tatsuya’s hands are grabbing at the fabric of Taiga’s fabric before he has the chance to look at him, kissing him hard; Taiga kisses back slower, his lips warm and searching, hand wrapping around the back of Tatsuya’s neck. 

“You may have proposed this,” Tatsuya gasps, “But I need you to know I want this just as bad.”

Taiga nods, his pupils wide. “Loud and clear.”

Tatsuya bites at Taiga’s lip, leaving one hand tangled in his hoodie while the other drops down, feeling the whole of Taiga stiffen then smooth back out when he palms his crotch, but he doesn’t give him time to savor it, moving his hand under his hoodie, pushing his fingers over his abs. Taiga’s other hand goes to Tatsuya cheek, and they end up with shoulders wedged between their seats, almost halfway into the back of the truck. Tatsuya lifts an eyebrow.

“Upstairs?” 

Taiga lets his lips pass over Tatsuya’s neck one last time. The plastic bag rustles when Tatsuya steps on it on his way out, and he grabs it, the straps spinning and winding tight against his hand. They wait for the elevator, shoulders close to touching as another car drives past; they step in, and Taiga scans his key, pressing the button for the eleventh floor. Tatsuya leans against the wall, arms crossed. Taiga leans against the back of the elevator, sleeves pushed up his forearms, tugging the hem of his sweatshirt lower. He inclines his head towards the security camera in the corner; Tatsuya sighs, but it’s nothing new.

The door opens, and Tatsuya follows Taiga down the hall until he stops and unlocks a door. Taiga goes inside, and Tatsuya follows, closing the door behind him. When he turns back around, Taiga catches him by the waist and presses him back against the door, kissing him again; Tatsuya listens to him turn the latch. He pulls back, just enough to lift his hand and push it through Tatsuya’s hair, pausing to hold his bangs back.

“Oh, fuck me,” Taiga breathes.

Tatsuya pokes his tongue out from his lips. “Is that a request?”

Taiga’s hand drops, grabbing at Tatsuya’s ass, then his thigh, hitching his leg up around his waist. He lifts his eyebrow, grinning. Fuck, he looks good.

“Bedroom. Now.”

“As long as I can throw my ice cream in your freezer,” Tatsuya smiles, pushing out the words between kisses. He grips Taiga’s shoulders and presses down, throwing his other leg around Taiga’s waist; Taiga’s other hand goes under his ass to support him. 

They pull away from the door and Taiga starts walking, kissing Tatsuya all the way; Tatsuya peeks to look at him, around the apartment. Taiga’s eyelids flutter; he catches sight of a an open kitchen, granite countertops and a gleaming refrigerator and stove.

“Mm, you like to cook?”

“Yeah,” Taiga breathes, clearly with other topics in mind “Freezer is the door on your right.” Tatsuya opens it and slips the bag inside; Taiga shoulders it closed and is back to kissing him again, moving; Tatsuya kisses back.

He closes his eyes, opening them again when he feels himself deposited onto a bed--black and grey bedding, king-sized.. Taiga kisses down his neck and pushes his shirt up, fingers running up over his abs, his obliques, thumbs rubbing circles over his nipples; Tatsuya moans, pressing up against him; he feels Taiga’s bulge against his thigh. He pushes his own waistband down an inch--just to tease--and feels around Taiga’s stomach till he finds the button for his shorts, quickly unbuttoning them and pulling his zipper down. His fingers trail lightly over his bulge, making Taiga shiver. He sits back on his heels, reaching into his shorts. Tatsuya whines, reaching to stay his hand.

“Hoodie first, please?” He pouts playfully, and Taiga takes his hand back, putting both on the front of his hoodie and pulling it over his head; Tatsuya’s eyes flutter closed for a second, blissfully imagining how his back muscles tense.

“T-shirt next?”

Taiga obliges, taking off the black FDNY shirt, Tatsuya savoring the image of his half-hidden biceps. It’s almost disappointing to see him shirtless, muscles unrestrained by the bounds of fabric--almost, but not quite. Tatsuya half-sits up, somewhat trapped by Taiga straddling his waist; he runs his hands up his stomach and chest, over to his shoulders and down, staring at and squeezing his right bicep in particular. 

“I have been wanting to touch you--for so long--”

“Worth the wait?” Tatsuya lies back, shimmying his waistband further down his thighs. 

“It’s not the only thing I'm looking forward to.”

Taiga raises an eyebrow, tongue sliding over his teeth. Tatsuya’s hands fall, coming to a rest just above Taiga’s knees: his fingertips drum lightly on his thighs. Taiga lowers himself, rolling to Tatsuya’s side. He pulls his shorts down, then his socks come off, flung towards the end of the bed. He slips an arm around Tatsuya, cupping his far pectoral while sucking at his neck. 

“If you make a mark,” Tatsuya exhales, “Make it lower.”

Taiga obliges, moving further down towards Tatsuya’s collarbone. Tatsuya breathes a soft noise of approval, arms circling Taiga’s neck, fingers brushing the ends of his hair, relaxing into the warmth of skin and lips and teeth.

Taiga sits back, his thighs beautifully thick and sturdy, curves and lines of muscle shaping his boxer-briefs. 

“God,” Tatsuya rolls his eyes. “Let me live my life with my head between those thighs and I'll be a happy man.”

“Yeah?” Taiga laughs softly, the tips of his ears turning red. “You won’t get bored?”

“From what your package is looking like right now, I’m sure I’ll keep myself entertained,” Tatsuya smiles. Taiga dips his head.

“I’m not great at pillow talk,” Taiga says after a brief pause, pushing Tatsuya’s shirt over his head and off his arms. “But I’m not the only one in the room who’s well-built.”

Tatsuya bites his lip, taking hold of Taiga’s hand and guiding it down his body, closing his fingers around his crotch. “I’ll let you take a look if you want to make sure your guess is right.”

Taiga heaves a breath; Tatsuya’s lips twitch with a smile. Taiga’s fingers curl more carefully around his dick, thumbing the head; then, he reaches in, pulling Tatsuya’s dick out, loosely moving his hand over his shaft. Tatsuya’s eyelids close instinctively for a second; he blinks them open as he eases Taiga’s cock out of his boxers.

“Split me open,” Tatsuya sighs, yearning. Taiga swallows, leaning in, the head of his cock pressing to Tatsuya’s abs.

“Anything I have to worry about?”

“Mm? I’m clean,” Tatsuya rests an arm behind his head. “You?”

“Didn’t have anything the last time I was tested.” Tatsuya hums, pleased, turning his head as Taiga drags a finger along his jaw. He settles back into the pillows, eyes closed, lifting his hips as Taiga pulls his joggers and briefs down. He opens them to watch Taiga toss his own shorts aside. He leans over him next; rifling through his bedside drawer; even though he’s seen Taiga wholly, the Magnum logo makes heat stir deep in his gut. He tears open the condom and rolls it down his cock, then squirts a liberal amount of lube into his palm, coating himself with it.

“Not even going to prep me?” Tatsuya squirms. “I hope you’re gentle.” 

Taiga clicks his tongue, grinning, his cheeks turning pink. “It’ll be faster after I prep you if I get ready now,” he chides, leaning in and squeezing Tatsuya’s dick; the motion turns into a slow pump, growing steady, and Tatsuya moans, his abs tensing reflexively.

“Taiga…”

“Keep saying my name,” Taiga says in a low voice, leaning in close to Tatsuya’s ear. “Just like that.” Tatsuya nods, squeaking out an obedient noise, pushing his hips against Taiga’s hand; Taiga’s thumb circles and strokes the head of his cock. He pushes the underside of Tatsuya’s thigh with his left hand; Tatsuya is happy to help by spreading his legs. He drags his fingers down Tatsuya’s cock, thumb trailing over his balls, pressing into his perineum; Tatsuya feel his face to crumple. 

“I want you,” Tatsuya pleads. Taiga meets his eyes; his gaze drops, watching as he pushes and prods at Tatsuya’s rim with the pad of his thumb, slick with lube, yet warm and rough against Tatsuya’s tender skin. He dips his thumbnail in, teasing, barely letting Tatsuya get a taste before he pulls back out--damn him. But if he’s going to play hard, Tatsuya can do the same. He licks his lips and pouts, lifting his hips as high as he can with Taiga holding his thigh like this--high enough, he hopes. Taiga swears under his breath, flustered, and kisses Tatsuya hard, pushing his index finger in at the same time. Tatsuya breathes a moan into Taiga’s mouth, his back arching, toes curling at the movement; he feels Taiga smile against him, his finger curling and feeling inside him; he murmurs, guiding Taiga lower till he pushes into his prostate, tentative at first, and then with more confidence, tossing his head back when Taiga repeats the action. Tatsuya asks for a second finger and Taiga doesn’t make him wait, only pausing to try and gently stretch his rim before pushing the rest of the way in--all the way, a pause to let Tatsuya adjust to the girth, then pulling his hand back to stroke and prod his prostate till the noises Tatsuya makes start to get higher in pitch (Tatsuya’s never loved that about himself, but it always seems to do something for the other guy when he’s bottoming). Taiga eases into a steady thrust when he gets to that point, and Tatsuya’s breaths, though heavier and deeper now, fall into rhythm. 

“Three?” Tatsuya inquires after a few minutes, his voice soft, kissing at Taiga’s cheek. Taiga smiles and echoes the number back to him, sensually teasing, questioning but not doubtful. He pecks at Tatsuya’s bottom lip. 

“It’s about as thick as your cock will be,” Tatsuya reasons, kissing him back; Taiga weighs it for a moment, nods. He fiddles with the lube in his left hand, withdraws to squirt more over his fingers, and slowly pushes one, two, three in, not quite getting as deep as he did before, not moving as quickly, but certainly making up for it in size. Tatsuya gasps, fingernails digging into Taiga’s back as his fingers curl and stretch inside him.

“ _I’mokay,_ ” Tatsuya exhales when Taiga pulls back to look at his face. Taiga nods slowly, eyes half-lidded when he leans back in, pressing a kiss to Tatsuya’s jaw. 

“Tell me if it ever hurts,” He murmurs, slowly pushing his fingers into Tatsuya. He finds a rhythm with this, too, thrusting, curling his fingers then uncurling them, pulling back, then thrusting again. Tatsuya’s eyelids fall; he rocks his hips onto Taiga’s hand, the damp feeling of sweat pricking in his armpits and on his back, only vaguely conscious of the fact that he’s started to rub at his own cock until Taiga’s hand joins his. Tatsuya lets go of himself and leans forward--carefully so--to curl his fingers around Taiga’s cock. He doesn’t think he’ll get anymore hard than he is already, but it’s nice to pump him in his hand, to entertain thoughts of having this dick in his mouth later in the evening, or maybe tomorrow morning. Taiga presses closer to him, Tatsuya’s thighs practically in his lap. Tatsuya loosely hooks his ankles around him, heel touching the small of his back.

“I want,” Taiga sighs, lust heavy in his breath. “I want to--if you’re ready.”

“I am, thanks to you,” Tatsuya smiles, taking Taiga’s hand from his cock, meeting his eyes as he kisses his knuckles. He squirts a healthy amount of lube into his palm, and rubs it over Taiga’s cock--just in case--then settles back, heart thumping in his chest as his fingertips run over Taiga’s shoulderblades. 

There’s absence for a few seconds when Taiga pulls out, and then suddenly, a presence that slowly fills him, more and more until Tatsuya is sure Taiga’s all the way in; he blinks open his eyes and there’s still an half inch of him to go. Taiga grips at Tatsuya’s waist; Tatsuya exhales his breath. He gives another push, and Tatsuya cries out, his body tensing around Taiga like a cage.

“Shit, did that hurt?”

“Good hurt,” Tatsuya chokes out, blinking rapidly. He’s sure it’s more shock than pain, anyways; he’s lost track of the last time he had a good fuck. And if it’s pain, it’s eaten up quickly by another kind of fire, one that comes from Taiga’s fingers curling around his dick, and another from Taiga slowly pulling back--Tatsuya can’t help feeling satisfied as he does, watching his eyes close with a small moan--and thrusting back into him. He moves slowly at first, but with a little more tact than Tatsuya expects, even pausing to tease, just the head of his cock inside him--but Tatsuya can tease right back, squeezing around him and making Taiga bare his teeth.

“Asshole,” Taiga laughs, and Tatsuya only grins in response, smile turning into a line when Taiga thrusts quick and deep in response. Taiga goes slow, then a little faster. Then slower again, but deeper, his hand on Tatsuya’s cock one minute, surely pressing bruises into his waist with his grip the next. It’s not exactly linear, but Tatsuya can rock hs hips in tandem with him, kiss him and scratch him, grope his arms and back and chest--and feel his own precum roll down his shaft. It grows into something steadier when they stop thinking too much about impressing each other, and then, faster, Tatsuya grinding his hips, Taiga thrusting directly into his prostate, both of their breaths quickening. Tatsuya comes onto the both of them--mostly Taiga’s chest, and then it drips back down; Taiga takes a few more minutes--cursing out of impatience at the end--and then comes himself, Tatsuya sighing as he feels the heat through the condom. He lies on top of Tatsuya for a moment--kissing him, rubbing his thighs--then eases out, Tatsuya’s abs and ass tensing, the emptiness feeling foreign for a moment. 

Taiga gets up; he returns a few minutes later, condomless and with a clean chest and hands, settling back into bed with a warm, damp towel. He cleans Tatsuya methodically, but still kisses him sweetly; Tatsuya wipes his hands on the other side of the towel before Taiga gets up again, presumably depositing the towel in a bathroom or laundry room.

“Here’s the thing,” Taiga sighs, settling down on his stomach next to Tatsuya, throwing an arm over his chest. “I just worked a nine hour shift. Let me nap for an hour to get my energy back, and I’ll make you dinner, or at least give you a ride home when I wake up?”

“Not sure if I’ll be able to move for the next hour, but if I manage to, give me your address and I can order delivery while you’re passed out.” Taiga flashes him a thumbs up, head very nearly hitting the pillow.

“Actually,” Tatsuya lifts his head. “I need one more thing from you.” 

Taiga winks an eye open.

“Give me your last name so I can google if you’re gay, too.” Taiga snorts.

“Kagami,” Taiga yawns into his pillow. “Let me know if you find anything good.”


End file.
